A Bump
by Montley
Summary: "Life keeps moving on, Ron. I've learned that it's like a train ride. It keeps going, but there are sometimes bumps in the road until the track comes to an end..." For the Summer Fic Exchange, dedicated to painkillerjane


**A/N: This story is dedicated to painkillerjane for the Summer Fic Exchange! Sorry it's so late!**

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A Bump

By Montley

Ron did not know how to feel, how to think or how to move as he sat by the window of his home, watching as the rain trickled down the pane. The sky was weeping, in the way that Ron should be; though all he felt was frozen and his bones severely chilled.

His daughter, Rose, began to weep from a different part of his home; no doubt Hermione had just broken the rotten news; it was expected for months now, but Ron never wanted it to happen, it didn't feel real.

Ron knew that Hugo would not cry like Rose or Hermione. Though Ron wished that he could, that he could _feel_ the tears cascading down his freckled cheeks. He hoped that they would finally come, that he could accept it in a way, lessened the hole inside his heart. He didn't know how he felt any longer. Hurt? Relieved? Deadened? Cold?

He did not know how much time had passed as he stared at the rain, which was carefree and listless, until he heard the familiar sound of Hermione's footsteps. After many years in his home, he learned to recognize the footsteps that walked through it; Rose's feet were light and carefree as though she were a ballerina, Hugo's were heavy and loud, for he had inherited Ron's tremendous, bulky feet, and Hermione's were small, timid along with the sound of her flats hitting against the floor.

"I told them, Ron," she said solemnly from behind him. He chose not to respond, there was no point in it. So he continued to stare, for that was all he knew how to do at the moment, sit and stare, waiting.

She sighed; he listened to her footsteps grow closer as she sat on the floor next to his chair. She leaned her tear-stained face against his arm, while she wrapped her own arm around his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she whispered as her throat rasped.

He shut his eyes, not wanting to look at her and see the newly born tears drown her face. He was empty, and she was full.

"Why won't you answer me?" she asked helplessly, and he could hear the tears through her sniffle and her feeble cry.

He felt her bushy hair brush against his shoulder, her tears staining his shirt, but he didn't mind. Not in the slightest. Hermione could do whatever she wished to him.

"We're all hurting, Ron," she said quietly. "You might want to talk to your children."

"There's no point," he said in a defeated tone. "He's not coming back."

"There's always a point," Hermione said as she brought herself in front of him, her gentle hands caressing his as her brown eyes pierced into his jaded blue ones. "Life keeps moving on, Ron. I've learned that it's like a train ride. It keeps going, but there are sometimes bumps in the road until the track comes to an end. This is just a bump, Ron. A bump that'll pass, but which will still hurt, because you care and because you love."

"B-but, I-I don't like it," he croaked, the tears finally brimming his eyes as he felt like a child again, when his mother would kiss away his tears, and his father would joke away the fears, but that would never happen again. He would never hear his father speak again, or laugh again or even joke again. He was gone like the rest of them, and how everyone else will soon come to pass.

It was no one's fault, no one's fault but nature and her deathly, cadaverous grip ripping his father away, breaking Ron's world into two.

And Ron continued to think of Fred, a death he still could not accept after the many years of him being gone. He knew that his father wasn't meant to die after Fred, but it still hurt and tugged at his soul.

Hermione leaned towards him and kissed a tear that finally fell, leaving a salty trail down his cheek. She brushed some of his mangy, uncared for hair out of his face and kissed his chapped lips before wrapping her arms around him, her own tears touching him.

"You know I love you, Ron," she muttered against his ear.

"I love you," he plainly stated. He always felt that the 'too' people tended to say after 'I love you' was pointless and childish, almost like a child to his mother, but this was Hermione, and she deserved more.

"You'll make it through," she assured with a small smile. "We always do."

He listened to Rose's ballerina footsteps enter with Hugo's lumberjack ones, and he turned around, seeing Rose's reddened face, stained with tears, and Hugo's depressed one, unable to cry.

Seeing his children, he knew that Hermione was right. That life keeps going, and he'll one day have grandchildren of his own, who'll weep at his death.

He brought his hand on Hermione's thigh, who then helped him stand. He approached his children and hugged them, never wanting to let go.

Up there he knew, he just knew, that his father was smiling down at him as Hermione planted another kiss on his cheek.

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**A/N: I hope that you liked it painkillerjane! Happy Summer**


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